Multiple Minds
by GreenBiohazard
Summary: A story featuring the different 'versions' of Cry. Written by someone diagnosed with 'Multiple Personality Disorder.' I thought it would be fun to try. :) M for language and violence in later chapters. (Possibly some Crycest too)


_Author's Notice: (Removed cause it was long and boring) (If you were in the first 100 peeps that read this and notice this is entirely rewritten, sorry, don't kill me ;-;)_

**Cry's POV: (This story takes place in the current time, but in an alternate reality where Cry has about 300 subbers)**

"Hnngahhh... uhhh," Rising from my snooze, I glare at the wall. This was usually the worst part of the day. Waking up. Having to leave my most comfortable slumber in exchange for the cold outside air. Well... not that cold since I live in a relatively warm area. St. Petersburg Florida is definitely a warm place, quite the nice area, but I can't just sit in my bed. I swing over to my right, and place my feet on the floor. Walking to my bathroom, I try my best not to trip on my own two feet. This is going to be a challenge. I think this slow wake up is God's way of getting me back for my body's awesome ability to never get a hangover. Stumbling into the bathroom, I look at myself in the mirror, but I only make out some of my more prominent features because as I've now realized, I've left my glasses in the other room. "Fuck..." I mutter. Groaning, I walk down the hall and pluck my glasses from the night stand, and I return them to their perch on my face. I walk briskly back to my bathroom, and gander at my face. I now see that not only have I felt disheveled, my appearance seems to fit the bill. Which is just wonderful.

Alright. I quickly wash my face to get rid of the thin sheen of oil and sweat, which is the result of my secret. My well kept secret. One I even try to keep from myself. But nevermind. I don't want to recall that this early, the terrors can come at night. At least I can sleep them off and try to live my life in the morning.

After the washing of my face has concluded, I take my glasses off and place them on the sink, and shower. I scrub my brown hair with some Suave and soap up with Irish Spring, followed with Fructis Sleek and Shine. Stepping out of the shower after my final rinse, I spray a little Lucky Number 6 to keep me smelling my best through another hot summer day in Florida. Placing my glasses on once again, I notice some smudges and fingerprints on them, so I wash them as well, and place them back on my face. I'm ready.

Today is Sunday, so it is most definitely four or even five by now, and I'm starving. I jog down the stairs and shovel some microwave meal into my pipes. Yum, so delicious that after the thousands of times I've eaten this shit I can't even taste it. I have a small stock of microwaveables for keeping the hunger hormones in control after I've slept the day away.

Now what? Scratching my head, I put it off. Perhaps I could shoot some shit on Skype? Nah, I need to wake a little first. I get my sneakers on and a hoodie, and I get ready to abscond when I hear a soft 'mew' from the other side of he room. Shit, AK!

"AK, I'm so sorry!" I run and poor cat food into his bowl, and wait patiently for him to come eat. One minute. No AK. Five minutes. No AK. Seven minutes. No AK. I cannot stand waiting for him any longer. I search my apartment high and low. No AK. No AK? Where... oh. My sister has all the party animals at her residence. She had recently took them because I've been so very... well I wouldn't call it busy or lazy. Just, thinking. Not there. I guess it's a good thing though, since the party animals are in good hands. Of course AK will always be the lead party animal, heh. Always meowing like no tomorrow no matter what I did. I suppose I'll give myself a few months to get my shit together since my sis is nice enough to take care of the animals, even with her boyfriend and their kid and all.

God damn I love my sister and Nathan with all of my heart. I even love her boyfriend a little, and I love my cute ass niece already! Coochie fuckin' coo. I could pinch those adorable little cheeks all day!

But Jesus though, I'm an UNCLE. MAN. THAT FACT MAKES ME FEEL LIKE I'M FIFTY.

Carrying on... I need to clean up the kitty food. I pour the contents of the bowl back into the bag and seal it tight again. I'll give it to my sister sometime this week so she doesn't have to buy AK food, along with my supply of dog food.

Now hold up. Who mewed.

I look around, and after searching through my apartment for the second time this morning, I blame the terrors.

Fuck it.

I can't ignore it anymore. Every single night, I am shaken with terrors unlike any others I have ever experienced. Even with a hectic childhood, the level of morbid fear I experiences rivals nothing else I have felt, or can imagine. Sometimes, I can distract myself from it for an amount of time, but that amount of time never exceeds twenty-four hours.

They follow me in my dreams, daydreams, and real life now.

Wait. Let me explain what I mean.

**_Intermission_ **

Since the age of thirteen, I have been followed by two people, or even personalities. One chasing me more in the physical world, and the other, more in my thoughts. They call themselves Mad, and Virus.

I'll start with painting you a picture of Mad.

Mad is horrible. He hates everything he sees, including himself (though he won't admit it). His body is a road map of discolorations, bruises, scars, welts, and jagged cuts, all of which are caused by him. He kills people, and when the people fight back, he gets his new claw marks and bloody wounds, which he wears proudly in admiration of his much enjoyed hobby. He is very dirty, smelling of rotten flesh, and he displays black stains on his skin and clothing, black stains of dried blood. He tends to wear a black t-shirt that is ripped on the edges, and if you look closely, you can see the blood stains on it as well. If you look even closer, you can see his ribs. He likes to boast that the only thing he eats is the flesh of his victims, and judging by his appearance, this could be. You would think that he would be well fed then, wouldn't you.

No, he isn't.

Why?

**He is me.**

I cannot eat flesh without gagging, so it is very hard for him to eat when he is in control.

Here, let me reiterate that, and maybe elaborate a little further.

Mad and Virus both love to take over my body,since they don't have one. So in other words, I am a puppet.

When I change, it hurts horribly. Doctors say I have multiple personality disorder. Well... I don't know if they can see it, but IT IS A PHYSICAL CHANGE AND IT FUCKING HURTS.

Oh, wait. Back to Mad. When he takes the reigns my stomach collapses to display Mad's ribs, and my skin melts and tears to become his. Still don't understand? Well here you go. Virus says that every time I change, my body is displaying what they would have done with it, if they were born with a body like mine. After I change, I am no longer a physical being. I am a state of mind, a sort of subconscious. This is the very reason Mad is skinny.

If he was born with me and Virus as states of mind, he would be just as he is when he takes over, albeit a bit happier because he would have elite control.

Get it?

Good. Yeah it was hard for me to grasp it the first time Virus explained it.

_**To be continued in an update...**_


End file.
